


they say [i did something bad]

by onefootonego (startingXI)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, tw: discussion of genetic manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 14:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20508863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startingXI/pseuds/onefootonego
Summary: you sigh and run a hand through your hair “okay,” you say “let’s go back for a moment, what do you want me for? surely you’ve got a dozen lab techs who could offer what i can?”lena shakes her head “there’s no one like you in my company.” she says “and it’s not just your intelligence i’m after.”you frown “what do you want me for then?”“there’s no way to put this without sounding crass,” lena says “but i want you as a test subject.”





	they say [i did something bad]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [traceable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/traceable/gifts).

you’re not sure if the text message from lena surprises you more or the fact that at eight pm sharp there’s a sleek back car at the front of your apartment building. it’s waiting at the curb, decidedly not inconspicuous, but it’s a wednesday night and who’s going to be paying attention anyway? there’s someone you can only assume is the driver leaning against the side of the sedan. at once you can tell he’s packing, there’s an uneven fit to the left side of his suit jacket. that is not a fact that particularly alarms you, after all, you recognise the driver as someone from lena’s extensive security team. 

“danvers?” he asks, his voice betraying his east coast origins. 

“yeah,” you say “you need id?” 

the man shakes his head as he leans across to open the car door for alex “you’re good.” he says. 

you slid into the backseat of the sedan. you’re met with the smell of leather, an undertone of watermelon – no doubt coming from the air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror. the detail amuses you, everything else about the car feels professional and luxurious, and yet, caught in the yellow-orange glow of a streetlight, the watermelon air freshener sits out of place. the radio is playing you realise as the door shuts beside you and you’re left with the silence of the interior. it’s only faint, nirvana if your ears don’t deceive you. you wonder if the station is the drivers choice, or if lena enjoys a little bit of kurt cobain. 

you can ask her soon enough. 

the driver slides behind the steering wheel and with a single glance into the rearview mirror to confirm your seatbelt has been done, he pulls away from the curb smoothly. anticipation sits in the pit of your stomach, the unknown amplified by the clandestine nature of the meeting. lena’s message had given little away, and you were surprised to hear from her in the first place. from what you understand there was some fall out between lena and kara after the former finally put two and two together only to arrive at the conclusion that kara is supergirl. that had been three weeks ago and kara had been melancholy ever since, unsure if her friendship with lena had been ruined forever. 

you were sympathetic, of course, and sisterly instincts told you not to reply to lena’s invitation at all. except, well, you’re curious by nature and something in your gut told you the meeting would be worthwhile. that said, you’re not sure what to expect. perhaps some confrontation over how you kept kara’s secret, but even as you considered the possibility, that didn’t feel right. 

the little direct contact you’ve had with lena has confirmed your suspicions that she’s incredibly intelligent and even she would understand why you would protect your sister. in that vein though, maybe she just needed a vent and a rant and felt that doing so directly at kara would do more harm than good. you could imagine that lena, even with her bitterness at being kept out of the loop about kara’s hobby, would know better than to rant to just anyone. you know lena has reckless tendencies – after all, so do you – but to disclose kara’s secret unnecessarily seems a bit beyond her. 

so, you’re left intrigued. 

of course, this could all be work related. however, as soon as you consider the possibility, you decide it’s not. if it was work-related, formal channels could have been taken. this meeting could have happened in the daylight, with j’onn or lucy present instead of yourself. except it’s pushing eight-thirty by the time the sedan rolls into the private underground parking lot of the l-corp building and you’re no closer to deciding what this is all about. 

the silence of the fluorescent-lit parking lot is immense and every sound – from your door being opened to the sounds of your boots on the concrete floor – is amplified. every step rachets your heart rate higher and higher still. you’re keenly aware of the driver beside you, not uncomfortably so, but lurking. he has reason, of course. you catch an identification badge being swiped across a sensor to summon an elevator from the bank. you stand, side-by-side, in indifferent silence. the uncertainty of the coming meeting leaves you both on edge and coursing with anticipation. 

you hadn’t told kara of lena’s invitation. it seemed more trouble than it was worth, with their friendship so ambiguous at the moment. kara would have no doubt wanted to come or been tempted to use one of her more advantageous superhuman abilities for eavesdropping. now however, standing in the bowels of the l-corp building with a sidearm carrying driver for company, you’re beginning to wonder if you should have mentioned at least _something_ to kara. for safety. 

not that you mistrust lena. despite her brothers actions, and some of lena’s own more morally grey moments, there has never been a moment where you have felt outright in danger. your current thoughts are the unfortunate by-product of your day job combined with the rapidly approaching unknown. cycling through the worst-case scenarios is something of a hobby at this point and whilst your therapist insists that it’s mildly unhealthy, you’ve argued time and time again that it helps keep you calm. it’s like tracking exits, an unnecessary exercise in your civilian life, but one that makes you feel more in control. 

there’s a soft ping as an elevator arrives, the middle one in a bank of three, and you’re surprised when the driver doesn’t make a move to join you in it. instead, he simply says “thirty-seventh floor. right, right again, through to ms. luthors office.” 

“thanks.” you say from the interior of the elevator. 

you find the thirty-seventh floor amongst the columns of buttons and press it once. there is a swirl of relief as it illuminates, but the seconds between illumination and the doors sliding shut feel long. the giant hive of a building just feels too quiet, you decide. like hospitals in the early hours of the morning, or on the weekends. there’s just something in the slow pulse of the building that reminds you of a sleeping giant. 

floors tick past one by one and you’re left alone with your thoughts for company. there’s a distinct lack of elevator music and part of you is glad, but the silence is immense. you can hear the shifting, working of the gears as the elevator ascends, and you reach the thirty-seventh floor wholly uninterrupted. 

something you’re more than a little glad about that particular detail. despite your invitation from lena, you’d fumble to explain your presence to anyone else had they asked. sure, you’re here for a meeting, but the fact that you cannot, in any way, explain the purpose of said meeting would no doubt be suspicious to anyone who dared to ask. not that it matters anymore, 

the doors have slid open and you’re greeted with a familiar sight. 

during the daylight hours, there are normally two receptionists at the curved desk. for now, there is no one and you remember the drivers instructions of right, then right again. it’s a familiar path, you’ve been into lena’s office a handful of times and whilst this time is distinctly different from the others, the familiarity of it all calms you. 

this is lena after all, not some obscure and distant business director. 

as you round a corner, you see the door to lena’s office open. light spills out from the well-lit interior in a rectangle of soft light. it’s nearly off-putting, the absence of fluorescent lights, or lena’s receptionist of the month playing guard dog from the desk adjacent to the doorway. instead, you catch sight of lena just a moment before she sees you – sitting at her desk, attention consumed by a cream folder open in front of her. she’s chewing lightly on the edge of a pen as you approach, but as soon as she hears your footfalls, lena looks up. 

“alex,” she greets, setting the pen down and closing the folder in front of her “you can close the door,” she says. 

“lena,” you greet as you do as bid, taking the chance to soak in your surroundings “how are you?” 

you’ve been in this office before, but never with the main lights off and the space caught only in the light of a few well-powered, but not overly-harsh lamps. it gives lena’s office a distinctly different feel, less formal and more relaxed. and the woman herself is more relaxed, sleeves rolled up and heels kicked off next to her desk. there’s a half-eaten container of take away on the desk next to her and a nearly empty bottle of water. 

“today was a better day than yesterday.” lena says, which is as ambiguous an answer you’ve ever heard. 

“do you want me to sit?” you ask, the doors firmly closed and the comfortable silence of the space settling between you both. 

“if you want.” lena nods, making no move to shift from behind her desk “whatever makes you comfortable,” she adds. 

you opt to sit, choosing the couch if only to attempt to drag lena out from behind her desk. 

it doesn’t work, but lena does swivel in her chair to face you. 

“i apologise for the late hour.” she says “but what i want to discuss is of a sensitive nature and i thought it would be best to do it at a time when prying eyes and ears are at their least.” 

“sure.” you nod, leaning back against the sofa, getting comfortable “what’s up? is this about kara?” you ask. 

something flickers in lena’s eyes, but the emotion is gone before you can name it “no,” she says “not directly.” you consider yourself interested and try not to show it “i have something of a proposition for you.” lena says. 

a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as your mind descends directly to the gutter “do you now?” you ask. 

“not like that.” lena says and it’s the first honest emotion you see from her, lips curling into a smile for half a second before she settles back into a more unreadable expression “as you know, or the vest least suspect, l-corp is involved in a number of projects at any given time.” 

“to say the least.” you reply – the contracts l-corp has with everyone from the department of defence to biomedical technology companies would be enough to fill a small novel. 

“mmm,” lena agrees “and i don’t spend nearly as much time in the lab as i would like.” she continues “but as of late i’ve been working on a rather special project.” 

“who for?”

lena’s eyes brighten “at the moment, you could call this something of a passion project. one i was hoping that you might be inclined to become involved in.” 

a thousand questions rise to the tip of your tongue and the first one you ask is – 

“what is this project?” 

there is no hesitation in lena’s response “it’s a serum,” she says “designed to work with a subjects genetic code and enhance particular aspects of their physiology in order to provide them with improved skills out in the field.” 

you take a moment to decipher the careful wording lena has presented to you. there’s a twitch in her fingers that betrays the nerves she’s almost certainly feeling and you take your time formulating a response. what lena is talking about, what she’s proposing with neutral language is, well, 

“you’re talking about making super soliders.” you reply bluntly, calling her out for what the project is. 

“yes,” lena says, and there’s something just short of delight in her eyes at the fact that you’ve looked through her explanation and seen the truth of it “but it’s not something that could just be used for soliders. with the correct modifications to the serum, we could tailor it to the needs of any individual.” 

you let out a long breath “that’s dangerous work lena.” you say, leaning forward and resting your elbows on your knees “and not just because you’re talking about altering human dna, but at what point does it become eugenics? at what point are you, or someone else, deciding to play god? just because you may have good intentions doesn’t mean that someone else with the same technology would be as well inclined.” 

your response doesn’t seem to have shaken lena, if anything, she looks pleased and intrigued at your reaction “all good points,” she says “you’re right, this kind of work very well could become a slippery slope. but i think you and i both know most of the projects my company is involved in have the same potential.” 

“that doesn’t make it okay.” you say. 

“no,” she agrees “but the world is becoming more technologically advanced every year and sooner or later, someone else will discover what i’ve discovered. as smart as i like to think i am, the world is evolving and if i am at the forefront of that evolution, at least i then have some modicum of control over the direction it takes.” 

you sigh and run a hand through your hair “okay,” you say “let’s go back for a moment, what do you want me for? surely you’ve got a dozen lab techs who could offer what i can?” 

lena shakes her head “there’s no one like you in my company.” she says “and it’s not just your intelligence i’m after.” 

you frown “what do you want me for then?” 

“there’s no way to put this without sounding crass,” lena says “but i want you as a test subject.” you blink and lena continues “you’re the perfect candidate.” she says “in peak physical condition for one, and – ”

you cut her off “you want me as a lab rat?” 

“no,” lena says “i have lab rats when i need lab rats.” she says “your physical and mental condition, as well as your job position, provide the perfect set of circumstances to test the efficacy of the serum i’ve created.” 

“jesus lena.” you say, standing, needing to move “so, you’ve what, you’ve gone through preclinical trials? is there a mass grave of dead mice somewhere?” 

“not a mass grave.” lena says “but in the early days there were causalities.” 

“and what about now?” you ask “clearly your confident that whatever you’ve concocted won’t kill me or you wouldn’t ask.” 

“i can walk you through the science.” lena says, and despite how wound up you feel, she is calm. not impassive, but calm and centred, confident. 

“sure,” you say “at the very least. have you tested this on another human?” 

“you would be the first.” 

“so it could kill me.” 

“it won’t kill you.” 

“how do you know?” you counter “you’re proposing fundamentally altering my genetic code. that’s not just something you do in an afternoon.” 

“no,” lena agrees “i’ve been working on this project for nearly five years.” she says “the science is sound.” 

“so why not do it on yourself?” 

lena’s lips quirk and she replies smoothly “because i spend my days in meetings and on the phone. i hardly lead a life that will show the benefits of the serum. you, however…” she trails off. 

“yeah, yeah,” you sigh “running into danger.” 

“running into danger to protect your sister.” lena says, tone as if she’s correcting you. 

you turn and look at her “that’s low.” you say “bringing kara into the this.” 

“is it?” lena asks “you’re telling me that you wouldn’t want the chance to be able to better protect her? come on alex, i dare say i know you better than that.” 

lena’s right and she knows it. 

for a moment you allow yourself the daydream. maybe not being able to keep up with kara, but being able to better protect her, being able to keep her safe when bigger and badder enemies rise up.you think about the exo-suit, what little memories of it you have. the parallel set of scars down your back itch and you shift where you stand, unable to keep from thinking about physical reminders you have from the exo-suit “what about the side effects?” you ask “you can’t tell me there wouldn’t be side effects.” 

“there probably would be,” lena agrees “but they should be minimal.”

you swallow hard “should be?” you press, the scars down your back aren’t the only ones the exo-suit left you with “morality of the serum aside, i’m going to need more than should be.” 

“what would you need?” lena asks. 

“i don’t know.” you reply “what you’re asking, what you’re thinking of doing…” you trail off for a moment, lost “i just don’t know, i mean just because you can, doesn’t mean we should.” 

“the quote doesn’t feel out of place.” lena agrees, leaning back in her chair “but i’m offering you a chance to become better equipped at protecting your sister. enhancements that have been consistently recorded in the preclinical trials include increased strength and speed, increased durability. the need to sleep less. there have been few recorded side effects, but those we did find include increased appetite.” 

“that one makes sense though.” you point out “it’s like kara.” 

“exactly.” lena agrees, and a silence falls between you. 

of all the things this meeting could have been about, super soldier serum hadn’t even made it on to the list. you’re left reeling, thoughts racing, mind divided. on the one hand, no, absolutely not. it’s too dangerous and too risky and could, or probably would, kill you. on the other, a smaller voice in the back of your head is saying 

_“go on. do it. all the advantages of the exo-suit and none of the harm. imagine what you could do.”_

“i don’t know, lena.” you sigh. 

“i’m not asking you to make a choice tonight.” lena says “or even this week, or this month. there’s no deadline to make a decision.” she says. 

you nod, but say nothing. 

you’re just unsure. this is not a question you ever expected to have to answer and yet here you are, debating with yourself the pros and cons of taking a super solider serum. 

“here’s something i don’t get,” you say suddenly “why me? you could get anyone in the world to do this. the military would love to be involved in this testing; they would provide with enough perfect candidates to test the serum a hundred times.” 

“i don’t want the military involved.” lena bites “as you pointed out before, this technology, this science, it could very easily become a dangerous weapon, a dangerous tool in the hands of the wrong people and,” she lets out a long breath “this, when i started this project i didn’t even think it was actually possible. but the more i worked at it, the more i looked and studied, the more i started to believe that it could be. and i, well, i want to be right.” she says “i want to be right about this.” she pauses, then “as for why you,” she shrugs “it just made sense in my head. after i pieced together who kara was, everything about you made so much more sense. all that you do for the deo, you do it for kara. you do it to protect her and the keep her safe and you, you deserve to be able to do it better.” 

there’s an honesty in her voice, in her expression, that takes you by surprise. 

you slide down into the chair across the desk from lena “i get why you wanted this meeting after hours.” you say finally. 

lena laughs “well that’s good.” she says easily “i know it’s a lot to process.” 

“to say the least.” you agree “you’ve had half a decade to get used to the idea. i’ve had,” you glance at the wall “forty-five minutes?” you say. 

“i can’t imagine what you’re feeling.” lena says. 

“can i ask you a question?” 

“of course.” lena nods. 

“what happens if it works. say i get the serum. say i become enhanced, or whatever you want to call it. what do you do then? you said you don’t want the military involved, but is that just right now? is that forever?”

“if i’m honest,” lena says “i’m not sure.” she lets out a long breath “when it works, if it works, i can think of the ways it can be used to save lives. it would take more time, more studying and research, but it could be done. but like you said, like we both know, there are people in the world that would exploit the serums abilities for evil.” 

you don’t know what to make of that answer, or the distant look lena gets in her eyes. it’s one the few times where you’re reminded that she is only twenty-five. she’s the head of a multi-million, if not multi-billion-dollar cooperation, she’s a genius and generally a good person and yet she lives in the shadow of her insane brother. evil by association despite the good she’s trying to do in the world, most of the time. you can think of a few of lena’s projects that kara shared with you that are less, for the good of the people, and more, well, morally ambiguous. this proposal now falling into the latter category. 

you tip your head back and let out another long breath, 

“i’ll think about it.” you say finally “and i’d like to read through some of your notes if that’s okay.” 

“of course.” lena nods, and there’s something like a satisfied gleam in her eyes.

* * *

by the time you finally get home, after turning down lena’s offer of her car, the adrenaline has finally dropped. there’s a low buzzing in the back of your mind as you consider everything about the evenings events. unexpected, of course, but tempting more than you care to address. shedding your jacket on the hook by the door and dropping your keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter, you feel a breeze ripple through the room and the cool night air is welcome. the walk hadn’t been all that arduous but sweat curls down the well of your spine all the same. 

you sink onto the couch happy to stay in the dark. the sounds of city seep through the partially opened balcony doors, but at this late hour the normal bustle has dropped to the odd siren cutting through the air, or the heavy lurch of a bus over a minefield of potholes. you stretch out, feeling the muscles of your back tense and relax as you stretch for long seconds. you twist your neck, feeling a satisfying series of pops and cracks. adjusting, you fold your hands under your head and settle your gaze on the blank canvas of the ceiling. 

part of you knows that instead of staying up pondering the morality and associated risks of attempting to become captain america, you should be heading to bed. you have an early wake up and a group of recruits to take through a combat training session as a favour to vasquez. it would be important to get sleep, but at the same time you know that with the speed at which your mind is racing, slumber is beyond your grasp for now. all any attempts would lead to is twisted sheets and a deep-set annoyance. instead, you stay settled on the couch and try to make sense of all that lena is proposing. 

on the face it all, what she’s asking is really quite simple – become a human test subject for a super solider serum she’s spent the better half of a decade developing. it’s a yes or no question and despite the fact that alex knows her immediate and enduring answer should be 

no, 

the truth is, deeper parts of yourself want to say yes. not for your sake, not really. but, as lena pointed out, most things in your life tie back to the sole goal of protecting kara. the promise of being able to do so with greater efficacy and less risk to yourself should the serum be successful, and not kill you in the process, is wildly tempting. even the thought of allowing yourself to become a test subject makes the deep-set burns carved into your back and arms ache. they stand as an unforgiving and cruel reminder of the time you were forced to push the limits of humanities athletics. the original exo-suit, crudely designed by non, had held little care for the comfort of its wearer, focused solely on your ability to end kara. 

as a result, 

well, 

the scars are something you have learned to live with. you know that tomorrow, when you approache the trainees, their eyes will flicker to the curled edge of the symmetric burns on your arms. you know they will murmur amongst themselves and rumours will beset truth will beset rumours. maybe one bold and stuttering trainee will ask, and if someone is bold enough, you will shed your shirt and let them see the full extent of the damage done to you. it is not a move you take lightly, but one you make to emphasize the true risks of the job they are training to enter in to. 

a distant siren wails and exhale in a long sigh, your mind drifting to the thick binder secured away in your bag. lena had procured it for you, promising more if you so desired and in return making you provide assurances that said binder would not get lost or misplaced. it was the least you could do, and slip into a sitting position on the couch, reaching across and flipping on a lamp before standing and retrieving the tome from your pack by the door. 

you set it down on the kitchen table with a heavy thump and meander up to your bed where you pull out a notebook and a collection of pens and highlighters. if you were going to do this, 

if, if, if, 

then you needed to understand exactly what you were getting yourself in to.

* * *

the next day progresses normal enough until lunch. you don’t get enough sleep, no trainee asks about your scars and for a solid few hours the idea of becoming a super solider never even crosses your mind. the period of normalcy is nice enough, but lasts only until kara-as-supergirl shows up in your office just past one in the afternoon. her arms are folded across her chest and she looks distinctly unhappy with you. 

“you met with lena last night.” she says, closing the door behind her and dropping down into a chair effortlessly. 

“hey to you too.” you reply, finishing the last of your report on the mornings training and looking across the desk at kara “so what if i did, and how do you know? 

“her car,” kara says “it was outside your place.” 

“and you just happened to see that?” 

“i was in the area.” kara shrugs “what did she want?” 

it’s your turn to shrug “we just talked,” you say, there’s no part of you that wants to explain what it was you and lena discussed last night with kara.

“just talked?” kara presses, moving from displeasure to pouting. 

“we didn’t talk about you,” you say firmly, not wholly the truth but also not exactly a lie “she wanted my help on a project she’s working on.” 

kara sighs deeply and frowns, 

you relent. 

“kar,” you say “at some point the two of you are going to need to talk this all out.” 

“i think we’re a little past that.” kara points out “she was pretty pissed at me the last time we tried talking it all out.” 

“yeah, well,” you starts “she had just pieced together that one of her only friends was keeping a massive secret from her. whatever your reasons for not telling her, she’s clearly interpreted them as you don’t trust her and think she’s just like her brother.” 

“but that’s not-” kara interrupts. 

“i know that’s not what you think,” you say, “but she doesn’t know that.” 

“for someone who didn’t speak about me last night you sound an awful lot like someone who spoke about me last night with lena.” 

“well, we didn’t.” you say “i just have a bit more perspective than you on the situation.” 

kara huffs and glances at the clock on the wall “fine.” she says “i’ll text her. i don’t even know if she’ll reply though.” 

“well, if she doesn’t reply then you can try calling her. it’s the hip new thing.” 

“you’re not helping.” kara points out, rolling her eyes and then after a beat “we still on for movie night?” 

“of course.” you reply, genuinely looking forward to a jurassic park movie marathon and definitely not thinking about maggie or lena’s proposition even once “you still feeling chinese and pizza?” 

kara nods and the tension across her shoulders drops a little, her face brightening “absolutely. i’ve got a late meeting about the tif money that’s gone missing, so i’ll be coming straight from work.” 

“that’s fine, just let me know if it’s running late.” 

“i will.” kara says, standing and moving towards the door “oh,” she says “and alex,” she pauses “i’m glad that you and lena are still, friends.” 

friends may be a generous term. you and lena run in similar circles professionally and once upon a time your ex-girlfriend arrested her. not to mention the entire entity that could be described as lena and kara’s complicated friendship. no, you would place whatever it is that you and lena are to each other somewhere on the scale between acquaintances and friends, with a healthy distance from either end. all that aside, you know that the fallout with lena has had kara down – hence the movie night tonight in the first place. 

“you’ll be friends with her too.” you reassure “she just needed time to process.” 

“i hope so.” kara sighs, then “i’ll see you tonight.” before disappearing out the door.

* * *

of course, national city has other plans for your afternoon. 

there’s an explosion, deep in the heart of the city. there’s chaos, panic and there’s supergirl trying, 

trying, 

trying. 

but on this occasion, 

this one time, 

supergirl is not enough.

* * *

by the time the sun is a smear of vibrant purples and pinks across the sky the entire state is in mourning. as for kara, 

well, 

you find kara on a roof. 

not just any roof, which, for the purposes of finding her was very convenient – however being up here, on the subtly swaying roof of the tallest building in national city, leaves your pulse racing. it’s windy and cool, downright cold even with the summer sun having since disappeared beyond the horizon. splays of purples and blues chase and fade into each other along the horizon whilst the faint glimmer of stars emerge above. 

you see kara sitting on the westward edge, her legs hanging over the side. you can see her hands gripping into the building, near fracturing the concrete with her strength. the cape and colours of supergirl still cling to her, covered in dust and debris and blood – none of it her own. supergirls cape catches on the breeze, flapping out lazily behind her. 

you approach slowly, steadying yourself with every step. 

it’s not that you don’t like heights, it’s that this is very, 

very, 

high. 

“kara,” you start, hating immediately how even that simple sound is enough to startle her. you catch her shoulders jump and tense “talk to me.” you say quietly. 

you know what’s happened, the gas explosion is national news at this point. 

despite your soft command, kara says nothing, she barely registers your presence. there’s no question that you would be the only one to find her up here, in this highest of places above her domain. as you approach, her gaze is fixed on floodlights illuminating the wreckage and the gridlock of those trying to get out of downtown. you wonder what she can hear, if she can hear anything at all. you know she can get lost in her own head. you know that you’re hearing is dominated by the racing winds and the sound of your own beating heart. 

it’s not that you’re afraid that kara is on the edge. you’re afraid that she put herself there. concern boils over because kara cam here to this tallest of places and she scooted as close as she could get. close enough that even her nerves of steel are shaken. sure, there is no danger in falling, not for her – but there is the exhilaration, the terrifying rush of living that comes with existing in such a thin space. 

“alex,” she says, her voice cracking and you can hear the tears in her voice. 

“i’m here.” you say simply, the sit just a whisper beneath the wind, words meant only for her. 

you drop next to, just behind kara carefully. your holstered gun hits the gravel topped roof before you settle. the lip of the roof is curled in front of you, preferring this barrier to you and the tens and tens of stories leading to the unforgiving sidewalk below. such a distance does not stop you from getting close, from bringing yourself as close to kara as you. you curl a hand on her shoulder, the fingers tracing patterns, feather-light “i’m here.” you say again, you remind her quietly “you can talk to me.” 

“they sent me away.” kara says, her voice rough and broken. 

you know who _they_ are. 

the rescue personal. the emergency responders. the people of national city who have so easily forgotten how supergirl saved the whole planet. they see the ruins of a building and recognise on supergirls failure to save every single life. you had been at the scene when supergirl had been berated, when she had been told in no uncertain words, to leave, to let the professionals do their work. vas had to hold you back, your own anger welling up inside of you. 

it’s a familiar anger, the desire to protect your sister. ever since you were kids and sure, you had resented her then, but not enough to let her get bullied. kara, so aware of her own powers, simply didn’t fight back and that made her a target. it made her a target until the bullies learned who her older sister was and what you were prepared to do if anyone fucked with you little sister. 

it left you in awe then, as much as it does now, of how kara would take blow after blow from the bullies and in those days, never strike back. she was never willing to risk injuring another just to protect herself. it’s trait you recognise in her today, even though she’s learned to fight and to protect, even though she’s saved hundreds of lives, she let the people of national city slate her and berate her. she let them lash out. their words have pushed her to this edge, 

and it is up to you to pull her back. 

you do not say, 

_you did everything you could_

she already knows that. 

you do not remind of the lives that she did save, the tens she pulled from the rubble in the immediate aftermath. the lives of those who live do not diminish the weight of those lost. 

instead, you put a hand on her shoulder and physically guide kara back from the edge. you feel kara’s body move with you, even if her mind is still lost, she does not resist. kara curls into your side, on this rooftop, her hand splaying against the flat of your ribs, seeking out the thrumming of your heartbeat. even though you know she can almost always hear it, you know that sometimes she needs to feel it. 

“kids died.” kara says finally “people’s children.” 

“i know.” you reply “i know.” 

“i should have saved them.” kara cries. 

“how?” you ask. 

“i should have been faster, been quicker, been closer.” 

“but you didn’t know.” 

“i should have known.” 

“kara,” you counter softly “you couldn’t have known. you couldn’t have known that the building was going to explode. it was an accident, a freak accident.” 

“they’re blaming me.” 

“it’s not your fault.” you say fiercely. 

“it feels like it is.” 

“it’s not.” you promise. 

kara is silent for a moment, her crying has eased into something less visceral and pained. you’re holding her close all the while, feeling her cape wrap around you both in the wind. her hand remains against your ribs, the fluttering of your heart a tether for her until, “you’re shivering.” she says. 

“i’m fine.” you lie. 

“you’re cold.” kara says. 

“we can stay up here if you need to.” you reply. 

“let’s go home.” kara murmurs. 

so you do.

* * *

the night is old and the moon high in the sky by the time kara finally falls asleep. 

she’s curled in your bed, her eyes red-rimmed from tears and her entire being exhausted. 

a part of you knows that you should feel the same, the day has been draining – but your mind is caught on the events of the night before. as kara had showered and you had cooked, lena’s proposal had come swimming to the surface of your mind. if you were stronger and faster you could have helped today. you could have helped kara pull people from the wreckage. you could have helped her save more lives. 

you could have protected her from the feelings of devastation and failure. 

you sit on the edge of the sofa and type of a message to her, it’s simple, to the point – 

**i’m in.**

**Author's Note:**

> this was written entirely for traceable, from a prompt she gave me.


End file.
